Viktor's Wrath

Snow had long blanketed the jagged peaks of the Branwyke Mountains, the frozen wind etching sorrow into the very bones of the earth.

Wind howled through the pines, sending flurries of snow skittering across the cabin's roof. Inside, the fire spat and crackled, its glow painting the faces of the Hallow Swords in flickering amber.

Two figures, as silent as the falling snow, entered the cabin. Gavril and Joren with the captured spy. They then tied the spy with chains.

The prisoner slumped in his chair, chains clinking as he tested their strength. His nose had been broken at some point by Gavril.

Kaavi, sitting by the window with a dagger turning absently in his fingers. "Check his mouth."

Gavril pushed off the wall with a sigh. "I have already checked twice, you'd think after the third time, we'd be sure."

"Just do it."

Gavril grabbed the man's jaw, forcing it open, his thick fingers probing between teeth and gums. No poison. No hidden capsules. Just blood

The prisoner gagged but couldn't pull away...

"Nothing inside," Gavril grunted, releasing him with a shove.

Gavril announced. "Unless he's got it something stuffed up his..."

"Enough." Kaavi's voice cut through the room like a blade through fog.

All eyes turned to the old man.

His eyes reflecting the firelight. Viktor, perched on a stool beside him, tensed.

Kaavi rose, his cloak whispering against the floorboards. "Step back."

Gavril opened his mouth…probably to make another joke…but Kaavi's sharp glance silenced him.

The prisoner let out a low, guttural laugh, his bloodied lips twisting into a grin. "You think I'm afraid?" he rasped, voice hoarse from exertion. "Do your worst. I've long accepted death."

Joren stepped forward, his stance rigid. "We're not here to play games," he growled. "Give us the names, and maybe just maybe...you'll walk away from this alive."

The prisoner spat onto the wooden floor, his chains rattling as he shifted. "Do you really think pain will make me kneel?" His eyes gleamed with something unhinged...twisted satisfaction. "You can break my bones, rip my flesh, but I won't tell you anything. You don't scare me."

A cold silence filled the room. Gavril rolled his shoulders, shifting his weight onto one foot, looking ready to take the challenge personally. But before he could speak, Kaavi let out a breath a measured, deliberate breath…before stepping forward.

"We don't really need to torture you," Kaavi said, his voice carrying an unsettling finality.

The prisoner scoffed but stilled as Kaavi crouched in front of him, meeting his gaze without hesitation. His gloved hand rose, hovering just above the captive's forehead.

"You may have accepted death," Kaavi murmured, his voice like a whisper carried by the wind, "but your mind has not."

Without further warning, his palm pressed against the prisoner's skin.

The prisoner's smirk faltered as Kaavi's consciousness slithered into his mind, tendrils of thought wrapping around memories, peeling them open like pages in a book.

The fire crackled. Shadows danced along the walls. 

The air seemed to shift…not physically, but in some intangible way. Kaavi's eyes darkened, unfocused, as if gazing into a space far beyond the cabin itself. The prisoner's breath hitched, muscles tensing as his expression twisted between confusion and resistance.

For a moment, the room was utterly still.

Then…images.

Not seen, but felt.

Fragments of memory bled into Kaavi's mind. Faces. Whispers. The lingering scent of perfume, something faint yet distinct. And then…a woman.

-A lady adorned in soft silks, standing beneath the golden glow of lanterns.

-Her gaze sharp, intelligent, calculating.

-A chariot, unmarked, rolling through the city's back gates under cover of night.

-Guards stepping aside without question.

Kaavi's hand trembled for the briefest second before he withdrew, his eyes sharp with newfound knowledge.

He reached for a piece of parchment on the table beside him, grabbing charcoal in steady fingers. The scratching sound filled the silence as he moved, strokes precise, practiced.

Gavril, glancing between Kaavi and the sketch forming beneath his fingers.

"Of course, he can draw." Gavril threw up his hands. "Is there anything you can't do? Talk inside people's heads, read a man's mind, and now this?" He shook his head. "Next you'll tell me you can make a bear dance."

Joren shot him a glare. "Gavril."

"What? I'm just saying, his talents are getting ridiculous."

Kaavi didn't answer, not until the final lines were set. Then, without a word, he lifted the parchment, turning it to face the Hollow Swords.

Joren's breath caught. His eyes narrowed, recognition flashing across his face.

"That's…" He hesitated. "That's the midwife of Baron."

 "She's been in his household for years. Trusted." 

Gavril let out a low whistle. "Damn. That's a knife in the back even I didn't see coming."

The weight of the revelation settled across the room like a heavy snowfall. Viktor leaned forward, studying the sketched features. The prisoner shifted, eyes darting toward the image for the briefest moment before he quickly looked away. But in that moment, it was clear.

He had been compromised.

Kaavi exhaled, placing the parchment on the table. "Now," he said, quiet and composed, "we know who holds the answers."

Kaavi set the parchment down, but he did not step away from the prisoner. His fingers flexed, ghosting near the captive's forehead once more, eyes narrowing in contemplation.

"There's more," he said.

Joren shifted, watching Kaavi carefully. "What?"

Kaavi did not answer. Instead, his palm pressed against the prisoner's forehead again.

"Stop, this you damned sorcerer". The prisoner jerked violently, his body convulsing against the chains. His breath hitched, pupils blown wide, as if something had clawed into the depths of his mind.

Kaavi's gaze turned distant.

Memories flooded in, darker this time.

Rotting flesh.

A woman's scream…a mother wailing over the mutilated corpse of her child.

Bloodied coins exchanging hands. 

A house set ablaze, laughter ringing amidst the crackling flames.

Pain. Torture. Suffering. He had done it all, revealing in the destruction left behind. Kaavi saw flashes of faces…broken families, hollow-eyed children, the remnants of lives shattered beneath the prisoner's cruelty.

A lifetime of sins, exposed.

Kaavi exhaled slowly, withdrawing his hand.

"You never accepted death," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet the weight in his tone was suffocating. "You accepted evil."

The prisoner gasped, his chest heaving. He bared his teeth, but fear flickered deep within his eyes…something he could not hide now.

Kaavi turned to the Hollow Swords, his expression impassive, yet his silence spoke volumes.

"He's done more than serve as a traitor," Kaavi said, his voice now firm, decisive. "Every vile deed a man could commit...he's done it. Murder, extortion, slaughtering innocents without hesitation." He paused, letting the truth settle. "He is filth, unworthy of mercy."

The fire flickered. Shadows shifted. 

Joren clenched his fists. "This man...he's the reason so many families were destroyed."

Gavril's usual humour did not surface this time. His jaw was tense, his knuckles white against the hilt of his blade.

Veyl inhaled deeply, his gaze locked onto the prisoner. "No painless death," he murmured.

Kaavi stepped forward, locking eyes with the prisoner. "You won't be granted an easy escape. You will feel every breath, every wound, every moment of suffering that you inflicted upon others."